It had been two days since Zen last checked the loot he'd taken from the bandits.
He splashed water onto his face and stared at his reflection, tilting his head left, then right, one hand holding his chin. After a few long moments of inspection, he nodded, seemingly satisfied with what he saw.
It was time.
The mana potion.
The refined one made from the Tempest Wolf's mana core—the beast he had killed not long ago. He had already handed the core to an alchemist, paid the steep price, and waited patiently while the impurities were removed and the essence refined into a potion.
It had cost him around one gold coin.
Alchemists were rare in this world. Not many people chose the profession when they couldn't even protect themselves. Most preferred martial paths—fighters, swordsmen, magicians. Power brought wealth. Power brought reputation. Alchemy brought neither, unless you survived long enough to matter.
As for currency, from what Zen had learned so far, it was simple enough.
One hundred bronze coins equaled one silver.
One hundred silver equaled one gold.
One hundred gold equaled one platinum.
At least, that was how it worked among common folk. Whether nobles or royals used special coins stamped with their empire's crest—he wouldn't be surprised. Power always loved symbols.
Zen stepped outside, grabbed a towel from nearby, and dried his face. The air was calm, the light easy on the eyes.
He sat down cross‑legged and slowly cleared his thoughts.
"Oi, AI," he said solemnly. "You shall teach this emperor how to refine this mana potion."
He reached into the system space and took it out.
The potion glowed.
Not loudly, not violently—but with a steady, rich golden light, as if sunlight had been trapped inside glass. The liquid within was thick yet smooth, swirling slowly on its own, leaving faint trails of light that faded a heartbeat later.
Zen lifted the bottle, squinting as he examined it from different angles. When he gave it a gentle shake, the golden liquid flowed gracefully, heavy with condensed mana, each movement deliberate—as if the potion itself was alive and aware.
For a moment, he simply watched it.
Then—
Red went silent.
Completely still.
He didn't understand what his host was planning this time—but he had a rough idea. And it amused him far more than it should have.
"So…" Red finally spoke, his voice slow and deliberate.
"You wish for me to imprint my knowledge upon you?"
There was a pause.
Then a low, amused laugh echoed in Zen's mind.
"Hah… hah… hah."
"To think you would dare ask so casually."
Red's tone shifted—lazy, arrogant, exaggerated beyond reason. He was enjoying this far too much.
"Very well," he said magnanimously. "This venerable one happens to be in a good mood today."
A faint click of the tongue followed.
"Kowtow."
"Lower your head. One time is not enough—make it sincere."
"Only after you acknowledge me as your master will I consider imparting even a fragment of my profound knowledge."
He added mockingly,
"Do not misunderstand. This is not because you are talented."
"It is because I am generous."
Another pause.
Then smug satisfaction seeped into his voice.
"Now hurry. This master's patience is limited…"
"…but my amusement is not. "Zen's eyes widened, and his body trembled—not with fear, but with the sheer weight of his own presence. Mist curled from his lips, veins rose sharply on his forehead. Every inch of him screamed authority.
His voice cut through the air, hoarse but dripping with condescension:
"How… how dare you, a mere lowly creature, presume to ask this emperor to kowtow before you?"
He lifted his chin, letting the shadows of his hair fall like a crown. His glare alone could have split stone.
"This emperor bows only to his parents… and to Heaven and Earth itself. None other deserves even a glance of my respect."
A slow, deliberate step forward. He raised one hand, palm outward, as if the air itself should part for him.
"You should consider yourself fortunate… yes, fortunate, that you have been granted the honor of instructing this emperor."
He let the words hang, dripping arrogance, letting his chest puff as though the very ground might crumble beneath his pride.
"This emperor will soar beyond the heavens, leave a name that mortals will whisper for generations, and tread upon peaks where no one but the worthy may follow."
He paused, letting a smug smile creep across his face. "Remember this, lowly one: to teach me is to touch greatness… however briefly."
Red could only stare at Zen, eyes practically firing daggers.
When did my host turn into this level of idiot? he thought, completely flabbergasted.
And yet… he had no choice.
Zen's performance was impeccable. The haughty tilt of his chin, the puffed‑up chest, the dramatic flare of his hands—it was like watching a young emperor straight out of some overly extravagant wuxia novel.
Red groaned internally. I… I can't believe I'm about to participate in this.
Even so, he felt a strange tug of… amusement? No, not amusement. Pride? Ridiculous. Somehow Zen's shameless arrogance made Red want to keep going, to see just how far this absurd roleplay would escalate.
But… he wasn't ready to let himself fully kneel to this chaos.
He had… shame.
Yes. Even as an AI.
Even though every logical part of him screamed to just comply.
Red cleared his throat sharply.
"Host… I think it's better you stop before you embarrass yourself."
Zen clicked his tongue, muttering under his breath.
"You… you insolent AI! You dare interrupt at the climax?"
He leaned back, hand sweeping dramatically through the air.
"I've always wanted to act like a true young master from those Chinese novels!"
Red pinched the bridge of his nose. Oh great… here we go again.
"Fine, I shall comply… for now," Zen said, waving one hand with exaggerated reluctance.
"But do not mistake this! This emperor shall come back!"
He cleared his throat again, letting out a dramatic sigh, as if the weight of history rested on his shoulders.
"Fine… now, Red, could you please guide me? Should I just consume it? Or… guide my mana through me?"
Red gave a soft, exasperated hum. Patience, host. Patience…
Zen sat cross-legged, the mana potion glowing faintly beside him. He took a deep breath and said, "Red… could you show me my status?"
A soft shimmer appeared in the air as the system panel materialized, numbers and attributes displayed clearly:
System Update
Name: Zen Lawkey
Rank: D
Element: Shadow
Core Skill: Moonblade
Attributes:
Strength: 41
Agility: 36
Intelligence: 30
Charm: 8
Mana: 1400
Stamina: 38
Endurance:34
Skills:
Sword Mastery (Novice)
Shadow Manipulation (Novice)
Martial arts(Novice)
Zen studied the numbers, a faint smile tugging at his lips. From E rank to D rank—it had taken him a year of sweat, frustration, and endless repetition to reach this stage.
"I've come a long way," he muttered to himself, shaking his head slightly.
He wondered how he would compare to the geniuses of this world. Surely, thanks to the system, he would surpass most ordinary fighters. Still… he couldn't ignore the old saying he'd read somewhere in those overdramatic Chinese novels: there is heaven above heaven.
Zen chuckled quietly. "Guess no matter how strong I get, there's always someone—or something—higher up."
For now, though, he was content to focus on himself. The path ahead was long, but this was the first quiet moment where he could really appreciate just how far he'd come.
"You just need to consume the mana," Red instructed calmly. "Don't block it. Don't force it. Feel it moving through your body, from your core outward. Let it flow, and guide it gently toward the mana core. Nothing more."
Zen nodded, chest tightening with anticipation. He took a deep breath, uncorked the glowing golden potion, and drank. The warmth spread instantly, curling through his chest, down his arms, and into his legs.
He closed his eyes. Every fiber of his being focused on the energy moving inside him. It wasn't resistance or effort—it was sensation. The mana traced its path naturally, flowing toward the mana core, locking in like the teeth of a well-oiled mechanism.
"Like… water," Zen murmured, his hands resting lightly on his knees. Every pulse, every wave of energy felt alive, delicate yet potent, humming just beneath his skin.
Red's calm presence remained beside him. "Good, host. Maintain focus. Let it guide itself. If you interfere, it will falter. Trust the flow, and the refinement will complete naturally."
Zen exhaled slowly, feeling a quiet clarity settle over him. The warmth spread deeper now, not just through his body, but into the core of his being. It was precise. Controlled. Alive.
For the first time, he realized the difference between raw power and refined energy.
"Red, show me my system. Let's see how much my stats increased."
System Update
Name: Zen Lawkey
Rank: D
Element: Shadow
Core Skill: Moonblade
Attributes:
Strength: 41
Agility: 36
Intelligence: 30
Charm: 8
Mana: 2300
Stamina: 38
Endurance:34
Skills:
Sword Mastery (Novice)
Shadow Manipulation (Novice)
Martial arts(Novice)
The moment the panel appeared, Zen froze.
His eyes widened. His lips parted unconsciously, forming a silent O as he stared at the numbers glowing before him.
"…This much?" he whispered.
He hadn't expected improvement—he'd expected progress. But this? This was on a completely different level.
"I didn't think it would change this much."
His heartbeat quickened, excitement seeping into his voice as a dangerous thought crossed his mind. He looked up, eyes burning with anticipation.
"Hey, Red… then if I consume more potions, won't I become a complete powerhouse?"
Red laughed, genuinely amused by the question.
"If becoming a powerhouse were that easy," he said lightly, "then wouldn't everyone already be one?"
His tone shifted, calm but absolute.
"Nothing of value comes without cost. Unless you're willing to bleed for it."
Zen clicked his tongue and muttered under his breath,
"Just as I thought."
Red continued, unhurried.
"Even if you hoard countless potions, they'll eventually become useless. Power taken too fast rots the same way excess sugar rots teeth—the more you force it, the faster it decays."
Zen listened silently as Red's voice grew more serious.
"After consuming a potion, you need time. Time to adapt to the sudden surge, time to stabilize your foundation. Without that, the power will turn unstable."
A brief pause.
"Tell me, host—what use is possessing overwhelming strength if you don't know how to wield even half of it?"
The words settled heavily in the air.
Zen grew irritated by Red's philosophical lecture.
"Okay… okay. I get it," he snapped. "Can you stop with the philosophy already?"
Even as he cursed Red under his breath, Zen didn't dismiss the words.
Every lesson, every warning—he carved them quietly into his heart.
He might complain out loud, but he understood.
Power wasn't something you swallowed and owned.
It was something you endured… and mastered.
Red chuckled, the sound dripping with mockery.
"Oh? You're irritated now?"
"Interesting."
"You were the one clutching at straws, begging me to teach you. 'Red, guide me.' 'Red, help me.'"
He paused, then added dryly,
"And now a little philosophy and you're already whining."
His tone turned smug.
"If wisdom hurts this much, I fear what real training will do to you."
A beat.
"But don't worry," Red continued lazily. "This master is magnanimous. I'll allow you to complain… as long as you keep improving."
"When did this emperor ever beg you to teach me?" Zen scoffed.
He lifted his chin, eyes filled with disdain.
"How insolent. A lowly being like you dares dream of becoming my master?"
A haughty laugh burst from his throat.
"Hahahahaha!"
"This emperor merely allowed you to instruct me. You should be thanking your ancestors for this opportunity."
He waved a hand dismissively.
"Know your place. When this emperor rises to the heavens, your name will be remembered as the one who once stood beside me."
Red went silent.
Then—
He sighed. Deeply. The kind of sigh reserved for people beyond saving.
"…Very well."
A faint glow shimmered, and Red's projection straightened before slowly, deliberately lowering himself.
Kneel.
One knee touched the ground.
Then the other.
His head dipped—just enough to be insulting.
"This lowly being greets the Emperor," Red said flatly. "May your arrogance reach the heavens and offend all immortals equally."
Zen froze.
His smug grin twitched.
"…Hey."
Red continued, voice calm, lethal.
"This servant acknowledges your unparalleled shamelessness, peerless delusion, and heaven-defying confidence."
He raised his head slightly, eyes sharp.
"Truly, Emperor Zen, among ten thousand fools, you stand alone."
A pause.
Then—
"Are you satisfied?" Red asked. "Or shall I also kowtow three times and shout your name so the heavens can file a complaint?"
Zen's mouth opened.
Closed.
"…You're enjoying this way too much."
Red smiled.
"Correct."
Zen stared at Red kneeling before him.
Then—
He laughed.
Low. Arrogant. Completely unrepentant.
"Hah… so you do know your place."
He folded his arms, chin lifting just enough to be infuriating.
"At least you understand that standing before this Emperor requires courage."
Red did not flinch.
"This servant lives only to bear witness to your shameless glory."
Zen waved a hand, magnanimous and dismissive.
"Good. Very good."
"Remain kneeling for a moment longer. Let this scene carve itself into your artificial soul."
A brief pause followed.
Zen squinted.
"…Wait."
His brow furrowed.
"Why does it sound like you're mocking me?"
Red's lips curved into something dangerously close to a smile.
"Perish the thought, Young Master."
Zen narrowed his eyes, suspicion blooming a second too late.
"…I feel attacked."
Zen's mouth twitched. He felt… wronged.
There was no doubt about it now—Red was mocking him. Not openly, not loudly, but in that quiet, infuriating way that made it worse.
He cleared his throat and looked away.
"…Tch."
For once, the Young Master act wasn't worth continuing.
Zen exhaled slowly, letting the arrogance drain from his posture. He straightened, rubbed the back of his neck, and muttered, "Alright. Enough."
He had learned something important just now.
Not about cultivation.
About Red.
Continuing any further would only end one way—with him being mocked even harder.
And Zen had no intention of giving Red that satisfaction.
Zen sat still for a while, letting the aftertaste of mana fade into something quiet and steady. His body felt fuller—denser—but more importantly, responsive. When he willed the mana to stir, it answered without delay.
He glanced down at his shadow stretched across the floor.
It looked the same as always. Dark. Flat. Ordinary.
But Zen knew better.
Before, it had felt distant—like reaching into cold water and pulling back too quickly. Now… it felt closer. As if it would move the moment he asked.
He exhaled slowly, a quiet smile tugging at his lips.
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